The Tale of the Amorous Octopus
by RadioShack84
Summary: A native of the Pegasus galaxy takes a liking to John. Danger and whump result, as per usual.


Disclaimer: I don't own SGA or the characters. I'm not making any money off of this. Etc., etc.

* * *

She saw him first inside the mechanical fish, but he didn't look to be in any distress, and so she assumed he and the others inside were friends of the fish, not food. He was magnificent, even more so than the larger one with him, the one with the long, thick tentacles coming from his head and a look of power that she believed might come close to equaling her own, despite her impressive size. The magnificent one's head-tentacles were much shorter, and opaque as the darkest tint of her protective ink. They weren't heavy like the large one's and seemed free and intent on doing as they pleased, same as the magnificent one himself. His eyes, the mossy color of her ocean after a storm, sparkled with a deep intelligence and trustworthiness. She could see why the mechanical fish had chosen to keep him as a friend rather than destroy him for sustenance. She wished more than anything to be able to call the magnificent one her friend and so she followed the mechanical fish as it bore him back to its reef.

At first she was awed by the great reef, for it was a mechanical too, and shaped like a giant starfish, though the ends of its arms were rounded. She spent days exploring the reef's edge, but found no point of entry so she dove deep beneath the reef, striving for its center because she sensed great power there. Power suited her, the power of energy she obtained from consuming her usual food sources, but also the power that coursed through the mechanicals. It was a puzzle for her, finding out how the power flowed, and learning how to control it based on those patterns. With her heightened sensitivity toward such things, it didn't take her long to find and tap into the correct flow to hear the reef. Still, she rode the random waves of sound—some musical, some speaking languages she didn't understand—for over a day before she found him. Then, with relief, she listened.

Time became nothing to her, and when she grew hungry, she studied the reef's power further, learning to change its resonance slightly to attract her food. All the while she listened to him, and eventually mastered the reef's power enough to see him. She watched his interactions with the mechanical fish, which were apparently capable of living in the air pockets inside the great reef as he did—her kind could live within the air pockets too, but only for periods too brief to be of any consequence.

Relief turned to longing as she saw the eagerness with which he handled the mechanical fish. Longing turned to anxiety when the mechanical fish took him away through the mechanical ring. When weeks had passed by and he continued to go through the ring, but never returned to her ocean, she grew envious. She wanted to communicate with him, but did not know how. She was incapable of understanding his language, and did not even have the physical features necessary to imitate the sounds.

Growing frustrated, she forced herself to ignore the magnificent one for days, immersing herself fully in the puzzle of the great mechanical reef's power pattern. It was like nothing she had ever encountered in another mechanical. There were layers and loops, overlapping conduits, multiple sources, so many facets that she was virtually blinded by the possibilities. She eventually concluded that she would have to settle for less-than-perfect communication. She had seen enough of the magnificent one's kind interacting to mostly understand their nonverbal speech, some of which she _could_ imitate. Perhaps, if she could just be with him for a time, she could use some of those techniques to express her desires.

He was important among his kind, though, and they were all so very cautious. She feared being misunderstood—not being killed, for if that was the price she must pay to be near the magnificent one, she would. She especially feared hurting him, or angering him by hurting his kind. Thus, she began to search, pushing through the blinding power until she discovered a way.

The great mechanical reef was equipped with many pathways that ferried the magnificent one's kind from place to place. She knew the pathways were used frequently, and they were used even more so when things did not run smoothly within the reef. She also knew that when it came to power, she was well-suited to making things within the reef difficult. In this case, nothing critical, just enough odd power fluctuations that all the friends of the magnificent one that were not mechanicals would make use of the pathways at least once. She could then draw them away from the magnificent one, just for a short time. Since the listening-and-speech system was the first she had mastered, it would be easy to disrupt it and take them far before they could figure out what was happening.

The ocean was just beginning to lighten with the first hints of morning when she began. By early afternoon, the magnificent one was alone and confused. She continued to watch him, though keeping contact with the reef's systems through touch alone was not easy as she moved away from the core and made her way inside. He was growing frustrated, hastening to discover what was taking place, which made him that much more appealing to her as he put his intelligence to work on the problem. The more she watched him work, the more eagerly she moved. Soon, she was in position. She manipulated the power once again, this time drawing him into the pathways, which inevitably brought him to her. Her dark eyes watched from above as an opening appeared in the wall, and she felt pleasure rush through her at the first sight of him. The magnificent one stepped closer to her from the pathway. The opening disappeared behind him. As he looked around, confused, she delicately reached downward, the end of her tentacle just skimming his inky head-tentacles, as softly as the gentlest current. He was here, they were finally together!

* * *

It was the flickering of the lights in the hallway outside his quarters that first alerted John to a trying day to come. Things never went smoothly where power issues were concerned, and today looked to be no exception. The flickering kept up on his way to the mess hall, progressing to three-second blackouts by the time he made it to the control room. Everyone he met along the way seemed bad-tempered and on edge. He spotted Elizabeth and Rodney and started making his way to them, nearly tripping over Zelenka and three other scientists who were crouched under one of the consoles. Though he never even touched them, they seemed to sense his presence and grumbled at him.

"What's going on around here this morning? It's like a zoo," he complained to Elizabeth.

She only got in a raised eyebrow before Rodney answered, "Just some power disruptions, probably due to uneven distribution since we had to readjust the naquadah generators after that surge last week. Nothing for the military to be concerned about, my minions are already on it," he gestured vaguely to Zelenka and company, "so long as you don't shoot anything, the problem should be taken care of by lunchtime."

"Now why would I go and shoot something?"

McKay just stared at him for a moment like he was going to scream, then walked away, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

"Was it something I said?" John asked with a bewildered look.

Elizabeth shrugged. "You know Rodney. It could be anything, but most likely it's the twenty scientists he's had to speak with already this morning, every one of whom he considers incompetent."

John watched the three arguing scientists near the console and cringed slightly. "Hmm. Good point. I think I'll make myself scarce until after lunch. You know, to avoid shooting any_one_." A quick wave to Elizabeth, and the colonel did just that. He holed up in the office he seldom used, played games on his laptop, and ignored his paperwork. He left the lights off, both so no one would come bother him, and so he wouldn't have to deal with the constant flickering.

A few hours later he emerged with a growling stomach and it was as if he'd entered an alternate dimension. No flickering lights, no arguing people. The corridors were quiet…a little too quiet. It seemed everyone had chosen to make themselves scarce. Shrugging, John decided to find McKay and see if the physicist was in a good enough mood to join him for lunch.

* * *

Sheppard actually imagined that he heard an echo off the walls as his stomach informed him yet again that it was hungry, but he still hadn't been able to locate McKay…or anyone else. Hours ago he'd tried the radio, to no avail, and since then he'd been everywhere he could think of: the labs, the control room, hell, even the infirmary, but no one was there. It was as though everyone had simply vanished, which was impossible…wasn't it? This was the Pegasus galaxy, but _most_ of the laws of physics still applied…or did spontaneous vanishing acts have nothing to do with physics? He didn't have a clue, because all the physicists he would have asked had vanished!

Frustrated, John decided to return to his quarters for his life signs detector. He considered stopping by the armory for a P-90 along the way, but as of yet there weren't any signs that he was up against a hostile force. He had his sidearm with him, and if the life signs detector ended up showing him a hive's worth of Wraith in the city…well, a P-90 probably wouldn't cut it anyway. The doors to the transporter seemed unaffected by whatever was going on, and they opened for him without delay. The colonel touched the location on the panel that would take him to his room, the doors closed, and almost instantly opened again. He stepped out without thinking to look where he'd ended up.

"Dammit!" John cursed, his eyes quickly roving over the unfamiliar corridor. Convinced that it was empty, he turned back to the transporter. The doors had closed behind him, and with the way the day was going so far, he wasn't terribly surprised when they refused to open again. Dragging a hand through his hair, John trudged down the corridor in search of a flight of stairs. As he moved, he became more and more aware of how unfamiliar this area was. The walls were the palest green in color, almost white, and the only door was at the end of the hallway. He turned and looked back in the direction of the transporter, but the path curved out of sight, so he figured he'd try that way next if the door ahead wasn't an exit.

Sheppard swiped his hand across the control panel, and the mystery door opened smoothly, though the space that lay beyond it was concealed in shadows, lit indirectly from a faint source that he couldn't make out. Reflexively, he drew his sidearm and cautiously scanned the area ahead before stepping across the threshold. Squinting into the semi-darkness, he couldn't help but be a little curious. This wasn't a small room he had stumbled across, nor was it another corridor. Metal pipes twisted their way across the comparatively low ceiling, and the walls seemed to widen further in, though it was impossible to tell since thick vertical pillars were scattered throughout the expanse, making it impossible to see very far in a straight line.

Behind him, the doors whispered closed, and John looked over his shoulder warily, but he was still alone as near as he could tell. He took another couple of steps and the floor began to slope downward. Before he knew it, he was sloshing through two inches of water. The air was cool, the ventilation system apparently online judging from the slight circulation that was ruffling his hair. The breeze was intermittent and soon stopped, though his hair continued to ruffle. John froze, but the tousling persisted. _Something_ was in his hair. _Please, please not bugs!_ he thought, trying to gain control over his rising panic. He could face a squad of armed Wraith and barely flinch these days, but almost anything with more than two legs made him want to run for cover. Whatever creature had come out to play today finally stopped moving, though he could still sense it there, hovering, waiting. Cursing the fact that he didn't have a flashlight on him, Sheppard very, _very_ slowly looked up. There, inches above his face, dangled a snake-like appendage. At first, he thought it _was_ a snake, but squinting in the half-light he was able to make out several more, a couple dangling like the closest one, others coiled around the pipes. If he squinted extra hard, two large glistening black eyes watched him from the center of the mass a few feet above, attached to a bulbous body at least three feet in diameter.

Okay, so it wasn't a bug, it was an octopus. A freaking _huge_ octopus. John calmed down fractionally and tried to remember if octopi were aggressive. He'd never thought of them as particularly vicious…then again, he'd never particularly thought about them at all. At any rate, this obviously wasn't the way back to civilization, and Atlantis had biologists that dealt with this sort of thing. Still moving very slowly, eyes locked on the creature above, John took a step back, then another. Suddenly, the dangling tentacle moved, wrapping around the back of his head. Oddly, it wasn't the threatening gesture he'd expected. When another arm moved to lightly caress the side of his face, though, John decided slow movements were overrated. He ducked and backed up at the same time, stumbling as he did so.

Much to his surprise, a third tentacle—or maybe it was the first one, he had no idea—wove around his back, slowing his descent and lowering him lightly to the wet floor. A tingling feeling coursed through him, then the other tentacle was back, sliding cold, damp, and rubbery along his jaw line. John was aware of the big creature moving above him, squeezing down toward him through an impossibly narrow gap in the pipes, and he tried to get up from the floor, but the arm around his back was now draped heavily over his shoulders, holding him there. Sheppard's body jerked and he let out a yelp as a tentacle snaked up under the hem of his shirt and wrapped around his chest. Another was already on the skin of his back, and he writhed, trying to scramble away, but the arms seemed to be pure muscle, holding him fast.

He was panting, his gun still in his hand, but he didn't think he could aim straight enough to shoot. Something was wrong. The tingling was stronger now, like a faint electric current all across his skin, definitely not a mere effect of adrenaline, though that was certainly present too. Sheppard was momentarily distracted by a ripping sound, and noticed with a strange detachment that his shirt and jacket were gone. What was happening to him?

Another cold tentacle landed on his other cheek, snapping him momentarily from his muddled thoughts and he grunted, clenching his jaw, ragged panicked breaths hissing from between his teeth. The tingling was worse then ever, spreading out and making his limbs numb, but more worrisome were the patches of fire burning all across his torso and back. He tried once more to break free, but the appendages around him tightened further, the burning and tingling both intensifying exponentially. John thought to scream, but the pain abruptly cut off as his entire body began shaking uncontrollably. He swore the octopus was watching him with something akin to…affection. Then there was nothing.

* * *

When John came to, he couldn't move. The side of his face was pressed against something cold and wet, hard and unmoving. He was fairly sure the rest of his body lay against the surface too, but he couldn't really feel anything, just a disconcerting twitching in his otherwise numb limbs. The cool smoothness beneath his face was soothing, the quiet stillness comforting, and he let himself sink back down to where there was nothing.

The next time he woke, the cool surface wasn't comforting, it was just cold and hard and he was motivated enough to find the energy to wonder what had happened. Adrenaline picked up as bits and pieces came back, affording him the ability to take stock. The light of late afternoon was painful, and John's head pounded through his mental dissection of his surroundings. Slowly his eyes adjusted, resolving greens and coppers into walls and a familiar ceiling high above. The infirmary…which made sense except for his lying on the floor in a puddle of water. John's vision cleared further, and he could make out the wheels of gurneys and other equipment nearby, but no people. Everyone was still missing then. Damn, that was unfortunate. He hurt all over and would for once not be opposed to some of Beckett's good drugs. Rolling onto his side, John groaned. The numbness from earlier was gone, replaced by the feeling that he'd run a marathon and then swum the English Channel.

As he moved, he heard a slogging sound. His hand went for his gun before he'd even consciously thought of it, and he looked down in surprise when his fingers actually closed around the grip. How had the weapon gotten back into its holster after the attack? And where the hell was his shirt? Red welts peppered his skin and burned terribly, despite how cold he was. It was like waking up with a hangover and wondering who might've taken advantage while you were sleeping it off, except that in this case it wasn't some_one_. Feeling a little violated, and more than a little creeped out, John drew his gun and forced himself to his hands and knees, wincing as the skin of his back pulled taut, causing the burning to ratchet up a notch. He finally realized that the slogging was his soaked BDUs dragging across the floor, but he didn't holster the gun. He wasn't going to let down his guard a second time.

Sheppard crawled until he reached a wall, making sure he had a clear view of the door and the rest of the room, though he stayed behind the cover of the gurney. Now sitting upright, he leaned as carefully against the wall as he could manage, but it still hurt to touch his damaged skin to anything, and he surmised that he had bruises in between the welts. Pulling his knees up, John supported his shaking arms across them, his sidearm trained somewhat-steadily on the door. He was still operating on the assumption that everyone in Atlantis had somehow vanished and he'd worry about that problem soon, but he wasn't so sure about the absence of a certain eight-tentacle amorous sea monster, so he waited.

After an uneventful half hour John was fairly convinced that the octopus was gone and he allowed himself to slide into a light doze. He knew he was still too on-edge to really sleep and so he would hear if that thing—or anything else—returned. Sure enough, he was startled awake a short time later by a strange beeping-clicking sound. It seemed to be coming from across the infirmary in one of the storage areas and was the type of alarm that might go off after a piece of equipment had lost power and needed to be reset. The noise was annoying, but had a regular rhythm that Sheppard found he could ignore. He needed to figure out what his next move was going to be. No one had returned, and if the dim lighting was any indication then this part of the city was likely on emergency power only. Outside, night had fallen. A hard tremor rippled through him, and John realized he'd probably been shivering all along. The infirmary was one of the cooler areas so his BDUs were taking their sweet time drying.

If all that weren't enough to think about, an intermittent metallic clanging chose to join in with the angry clicking, beeping machine. The racket was just too much for his headache to handle. John decided that he was going to have to break his word to Rodney that he wouldn't shoot anything, and was using the gurney to pull himself up when something banged loudly against the door. Half-standing on shaking legs, John almost fell over at the noise. Curling his fingers into the mattress, he managed to stay upright and adjusted his stance so he was just able to see the door and aim his gun over the top of the gurney. The banging came again, then an odd scratching. Sheppard frowned. It didn't sound like an octopus, but maybe the octopus had brought reinforcements. "Get a grip, John!" he reprimanded himself in a harsh whisper, steadying his aim while the scratching continued. After five minutes, the awkward position had his already-aching muscles screaming, and a stress-induced cold sweat had broken out between his shoulder blades, making the welts sting even more.

He strained to hear voices beyond the door but couldn't make out anything. Even the scratching had stopped. The silence drug on—well, except for the psychotic machines in the other room—only to be abruptly broken by a boom and a screech so loud it made his ears ring. The doors ground open and John prepared to fire, planting his feet and hoping his trembling knees would hold out a bit longer. He was hit before he had the chance to pull the trigger, right between the eyes, by a thousand-watt flashlight beam. The unwelcome surprise of being instantly blind caused him to lose his tenuous grip on the gurney and he tumbled backward, landing on his rear with a grunt.

"There! Are you happy now? Your precious voodoo lair is unlocked, but don't you dare blame me when that door never closes properly again. I warned you!"

"Would ya relax, Rodney? It's a bloody door. I'm sure someone in this city knows how ta fix it."

"But that's just the point. I didn't _want_ to have to fix it. It wasn't broken until you made me take a deluxe set of power tools to it!"

John was still seeing spots before his eyes, though they were fading, and he lowered his gun to the floor, clicking the safety back on. He let out a breathless chuckle at the familiar arguing, but the laugh sounded just a little hysterical even to him.

"What was that?!" Rodney demanded in a loud whisper, still standing just outside the open door.

"What was what?" Carson whispered back

"Someone's in there, and they're armed. I heard a gun-like clicking noise…and wheezing, there was definitely wheezing, and…where is all that beeping coming from?" Rodney's curiosity got the better of him then, and he inched across the threshold. "There it is again!" McKay hissed, making out a muffled curse over the discordant noise of machinery. "What are you doing? I told you they're armed!" he squeaked as Beckett brushed past him, moving quickly toward the sound.

"Of course he's armed," Beckett muttered, shaking his head. That curse was easily recognizable when you weren't a panicky physicist. "Colonel Sheppard?" Carson caught sight of the man slumped against the wall, shirtless and shivering, and hurried the last few paces to crouch beside him. "John, what happened?" Beckett asked, noticing trails of dark semi-circular welts all across his torso. Rodney soon caught up and literally shed some light on the matter, revealing that the welts were an angry red.

The scientist gaped, and bent closer to gawk at the marks, which looked suspiciously like the red kisses Jeanne and Madison had stamped all over his birthday card. "I don't believe it! Colonel Kirk strikes again! Just because I said not to shoot anything didn't mean you were supposed to run off and find a broom closet…"

Sheppard glared at him and batted the flashlight away, before curling his arms back around himself, being careful not to touch the welts. "If you wouldn't have disappeared, I wouldn't have had to go looking for you, so the way I see it, this is actually _your_ fault."

"Hey, don't blame me for your failed relationships…though this one appears moderately…successful." Rodney snickered.

"It's _so_ not what you think, McKay," John muttered, grimacing and looking away.

Carson decided it was time to intervene. John didn't look well at all, and the sooner he got dried off the better. "Rodney, would ya go find a blanket please? The colonel needs ta get warmed up."

"You'd think he'd be plenty warm after all of _that_," he flashed the light back across Sheppard's torso, his grin shifting to a sulky look at the matching glares he received. "Fine, fine, I'm going."

"It would be helpful if ya could get the power working too," Carson called after him and knew the scientist had heard, even if he didn't respond. "I'm really not sure which of us is more relieved ta be out of there," Carson continued, "the transporters malfunctioned and left us stranded inside a small building for over three hours, heaven knows where, but it was dark and according ta Rodney, claustrophobic. Then, about forty minutes ago, Elizabeth radioed sayin' I was needed here. We tried again and the transporters worked, even if the door was less than cooperative. It was the strangest thing."

John blinked at Carson's account. That didn't sound at all strange compared to his afternoon, but it did explain a few things. Even so, he was still feeling the rush of relief that it had been Carson and Rodney on the other side of that door rather than…something else.

"What did ya get yourself into this time, lad?" Carson wasn't really expecting an answer, what with the colonel's unusually quiet demeanor, as he brought out his stethoscope to listen to John's heart and lungs.

"It wasn't a broom closet," John replied uneasily, no hint of mirth in his voice. A disturbed look passed across his face. "The transporter I was using malfunctioned too, and I had a close encounter with a…with an octopus."

"An octopus?"

Sheppard swallowed, "A very, very big octopus."

"I see," Beckett said, keeping his voice calm and professional. It was obvious John was still a bit shaken by what had happened, and he couldn't say that he blamed the man. The wildlife of this galaxy had not taken a liking to him thus far. "Are ya hurt anywhere other than the obvious?" he gestured to the welts.

"Not really. I felt kinda strange after it touched me but that seems to have mostly worn off."

Which roughly translated to: 'Yes. It hurt like hell and I'm still feeling the effects.' Carson sighed, but took it as a positive sign that Sheppard was feeling well enough to try to downplay what had happened. "Define 'mostly worn off'."

"Headache, muscle aches, kinda tired."

Beckett nodded. That sounded closer to the truth. "And how did ya get down here?"

John considered the question for a long moment. "I'm…not entirely sure. I was stuck, couldn't move…it felt like she zapped me with something, then I woke up on the floor here."

"Ha! I knew there was a woman involved!" Rodney chortled, his timing impeccable as always.

"It wasn't a woman!" Sheppard growled.

"Likely story, Kirk."

"Rodney, enough already," Beckett said, exasperated. "Are ya going ta fix the lights?"

McKay gestured impatiently. "I already did. This is equipment that's been around for a few millennia. Give it a second."

True to his word, the lights flickered on a moment later, causing them all to squint. Rodney recovered the quickest and turned toward John, wanting to know if he'd really seen the red kiss marks before. Sure enough they were there, but he felt a twinge of guilt for his comments as he looked at Sheppard. The colonel was pale and still trembling, his face pinched with pain. "What's wrong with him?" McKay asked Beckett in a low voice, devoid of all teasing, as he shoved the blanket he'd retrieved into Carson's hands.

"He had a bit of an encounter with an octopus this afternoon, I'm afraid."

Rodney's eyes widened. "An octopus! Aren't those poisonous?!"

"A few, but most aren't." Carson heard Sheppard groan softly and stooped down once again, eyeing John with concern. "Are ya feelin' worse, son?"

"Just the aches," Sheppard answered honestly. Gingerly stretching out his left leg he kneaded his thigh muscle with shaking hands and grimaced at the painful spasm beneath his fingers.

Carson nodded thoughtfully, peering at the welts, which actually looked more like burns in full light. "I have a theory about that. A few Earth species have the ability ta deliver rather high voltages ta stun their prey. I wouldn't be too surprised ta find somethin' similar here. If so, it's not surprising that ya don't feel the greatest right now."

"Wonderful," Sheppard said, but was secretly relieved to hear a hypothesis that didn't involve the octopus having done untoward things that would make him deserve the Kirk comments Rodney had been throwing around.

"I still want ta get a blood sample and a scan, just ta make sure ya don't have any nasty toxins in your system," Beckett went on, "but first things first. Let's get ya off the floor and into some dry clothes before ya catch pneumonia."

John nodded tiredly and let Carson and Rodney pull him to his feet. His knees offered him somewhat less support than if they'd been made of rubber, and after three lurching steps Beckett insisted that he lie down. John just nodded to that as well, let Beckett help him switch out his waterlogged BDUs for dry scrub pants, and was soon settled on his side in bed beneath several warm blankets while Carson tended to the burns on his back and chest.

Rodney inexplicably disappeared during his scan, which provided John a much-needed, audience-free opportunity to ask Carson for some pain medication. By the time McKay returned, he was beginning to come down, drifting on the currents of IV muscle relaxants, analgesics, and antihistamines. Sheppard vaguely listened as Rodney interrogated Carson about temporary heart arrhythmias (the reason that his chest was currently a patchwork of cardiac monitor electrodes as well as bandages) and the definition of a '_mild_ octopi toxin' (the reason that the burns/welts were so inflamed). His breath caught when he felt something move on the top of his head, but the adrenaline bled out of him the instant Teyla's forehead touched his. He relaxed further to the feel of her fingers combing gently through his hair.

Sleep had nearly claimed him when a combination of anxiety about the inevitable nightmares to come and the low rumble of Ronon's voice prevented him from slipping over the edge. The Satedan was grilling McKay in an uncharacteristically scientific manner about what exact species of octopus was the culprit, to which McKay didn't have an answer, but assured Ronon that he would find out. Rapidly.

John silently thanked McKay, his exhausted and medicated mind finally working out the reason for the scientist's earlier disappearance. For a few moments there was nothing but the sound of typing, Teyla's soothing touch, and the sense that Ronon was glowering at McKay since the typing sped up. Then McKay's triumphant voice started talking about a species called _Electricus Rusen_, so named because it used its natural ability of controlling electrical currents as a ruse to lure prey and attract potential mates…John stopped listening right there. The reassuring whine of Ronon's blaster powering up was what finally lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Far beneath the great mechanical reef, she watched him for a just a few moments more. The magnificent one's heartbeat was finally slow and even as he slept, not racing with terror as it had been in her presence. The three he protected above all others now protected him, the powerful one with the long head-tentacles having vowed to take her life if she ever returned to the reef. That much was clear by his mannerisms alone. It made her sad, but she knew now that she could never be with the magnificent one. She was filled with grief that her desires had caused him pain. Only her successful effort to bring him to great reef's place of healing when she realized she had injured him and her ability to convince the healer to go to him justified her continued existence.

At last certain that the magnificent one would recover, she permanently severed her connection with the great reef. She had left behind a resonance in the reef's systems that would warn others of her kind away so that the magnificent one could never be forced to relive the fear she had caused. Satisfied that she had done all in her power to atone for her actions, the giant octopus jetted away into the deep.

* * *

THE END


End file.
